Lisa packed him up a more bountiful lunch than usual, when she knew he was going to join Seppi again. The little satchel was quite heavy, what with the sketch-book and what with the dinner, but Squib was delighted at the weight of his burden, and hurried down the rough path and up the opposite side with a light heart and bounding footstep.
Seppi was there before him at the green knoll. Squib heard the sound of the goats’ bells even before he reached the crest of the ridge. But this time Seppi was sitting with his face towards him, and as soon as he saw his companion of yesterday, he waved his hat and shouted a glad greeting, whilst Moor rushed forward with a sharp, joyous bark.
It was very nice to have a friend now to welcome him and to talk to. The boys met with the frank fellowship which is only possible on such short acquaintance between children.
“I’ve got something for you, Seppi!” cried Squib, as soon as he had disburdened himself of his satchel, and was wiping his hot face with his pocket-handkerchief. “Would you like to see what it is?” And opening the bag, he drew out his parcel and placed it in Seppi’s hands.
“Is it for me?” asked Seppi, with wide-open eyes, as though such a thing as a gift were too wonderful to be understood all at once.
“Of course it is,” answered Squib, “for your very own self. I hope you’ll like it. I think you will.”
Squib’s face was flushed with exercise and with generous pleasure. Over Seppi’s had stolen a strange look of mingled wonderment and awe. In all life before (which seemed a long one to him) he never remembered receiving such a grand present as this square parcel done up in paper and string. He was almost afraid to open it, and sat clasping it between his trembling hands, till Moor pushed an inquisitive nose against it and Squib said laughingly,—
“Don’t you want to see what it is, Seppi?”
Seppi would not have minded how he prolonged the exquisite pleasure of that moment, but at Squib’s words he slowly began to unfasten the string and unfold the brown paper. With the same deliberate slowness and look of rapturous intentness on his face, he drew forth the square black book and the long box beside it, and with a strange, fleeting glance at Squib and a catch in his voice, he asked—
“What is it, little Herr?”